


Shell

by Invictusimpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Broken Sam, Canon Compliant, Gen, Heavy Angst, Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 07:02:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3240665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invictusimpala/pseuds/Invictusimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam feels as brittle as a thin sheet of ice, if someone so much as steps in the wrong place he’s going to start caving in, and he fears this time he’s not going to be able to freeze those memories, those thoughts of Hell, of being tortured, of <em>everything</em> back over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shell

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt I received on my tumblr. Thank you so much for reading, enjoy :)

Sam pets over his scarred skin with shaking fingertips. It feels like with a scrape of his nail against the paling epidermis he’d start bleeding out. If he so much as bends in a specific way he’s certain his bones will crack and break.

He’s not sleeping, that’s another problem, and it’s hard to eat the food shoved in his face every damn day without getting sick or shaking his head. He's not hungry, but he's so tired. He wishes he could sleep forever.

His eyes burn and so do his bones. They creak when he moves, and his muscles protest every shift, even to roll over in a bed that’s soft as a cloud.

The constant throb of his head beats in time to the pounding of his heart that could go out in fifty years or tomorrow, more likely to be the latter if things keep going the way they are.

He yearns for a touch he’ll never receive. He aches for a love he'll never get to have. He prays for a god to come and save him that doesn't exist.

He feels as brittle as a thin sheet of ice, if someone so much as steps in the wrong place he’s going to start caving in, and he fears this time he’s not going to be able to freeze those memories, those thoughts of Hell, of being tortured, of _everything_ back over.

He feels fragile and vulnerable, no more valuable than a chunk of glass stronger than him.

For the first time in years he soaks his pillow through with tears, both the physical and mental pain crippling in a way he doesn’t know how to iterate.

Nothing feels real anymore, he feels like he’s walking in a dream he can’t wake up from. God, he wishes he could wake up from it with all that's left of him.

He’s helped Dean, given him his life, to get the demon out and his brother back in its place, and he’s done enough. But no matter what people just take and take and take from him, and he has nothing else to give.

He’s spent. He’s done. He’s given up.

He’s a broken shell of a man that once was, and he has no idea how to pick himself back up, how to fill the emptiness.

“Sam? You up? We gotta get goin’, new case, and we still gotta get this thing off my arm,” Dean calls, and Sam whimpers into his pillow.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he yells back, voice quivering, and he begins to move out from the warmth of the sheets, slowly so he doesn't end up collapsing.

He stands. He walks. He gives some more.

He just hopes he doesn’t shatter this time.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com)  
>  I am taking prompts there, if you're interested :)  
> (More info on that [here](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com/prompt-info))


End file.
